Love, like the amber rays of sunrise,
is aflame in Prospect Park.
Crimson strands flow haphazardly
in the breeze, tickling her bare shoulders.
Her heart pounds, her muscles tighten,
as beads of sweat cascade the length of her spine.
The rhythmic familiarity of the movement exhilarates her.
Propelling her, harder, faster, towards the pinnacle.
She closes her eyes, reflecting for a split-second,
as she crests the final incline. Opening them
once more, she finds him there, in his usual spot.
Parked amidst the shade of a lofty Elm.
With a glint in his eye, he glanced suspiciously
at the stopwatch. She raised an eyebrow in mock protest.
�That bad Hun,� she said, feigning disappointment.
He laughed gregariously, and said, �my treat again.�
She pirouetted, leaped into the air, and gave
her imaginary partner a high five, as he watched in delight.
She quickly closed the distance, kissing him softly,
the salty sweet taste of romance on her lips.
�Bagels and coffee again, my love?� he asked,
taking her hand in his, as they headed for the car.
�`Tis the breakfast of champions ma man,� she said,
smiling modestly, as she pulled swiftly away from the curb.